


Need

by Shire55



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/M, p/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-21
Updated: 2011-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-27 16:29:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shire55/pseuds/Shire55





	Need

Need  
The evening had ended as it usually didin frustration.  
She had come for dinner, chatting amiably as he prepared the table.  
Seated, they enjoyed the meal. After moving to the lounge area,  
they partook a glass of wine. He sat on the sofa, surprised when  
she sat closer than usual, eliciting a gentle spike of his desire.  
There, under the viewport, they talked of inconsequentialities  
until eventually.inevitably, she rose and stretched her  
beautiful body, signaling the end of the evening.  
Walking her to the door, she turned and uncharacteristically touched  
her fingers gently to his face, then leaned in and kissed him  
chastely on his lips. The door opened and she glided from his  
view, the sighing doors, as they closed, accentuating the silence  
of his cabin.  
His chest rose and fell in an expansive sigh, his head lowering.  
Standing motionlessly, he struggled to gain control of his desire,  
his pain, eventually moving into his bedroom. There, after a visit  
to the lavatory, he shed his clothes, donned a pair of sleeping  
shorts and crawled slowly into his bed, knowing that sleep would  
be slow in coming.

 

He stared intently into her eyes, as with each deep,  
powerful thrust she gasped and moaned, writhing beneath him. They  
had started slowly and gently, each caress, each touch driving  
them further into the web of incredible heat that was building  
within them. He knew her climax was approaching and pounded harder,  
touching her deeply with his body and soul. She arched up to him,  
groaning his nameand abruptly, he woke up.

 

Panting raggedly, his chest heaving, he rolled onto his  
back, staring into the darkness of his bedroom. Desperately seeking  
control, he tried to shift his mind away from the erotic images  
that cascaded vividly behind his eyes. He struggled to ignore  
the hot, throbbing erection, pressed hard against his stomach,  
confined in his shorts, aching to be touched. Clenching the sheets  
with both hands, he screwed his eyes tightly shut, vainly willing  
the powerful sensations to cease. He was a man of formidable strength  
of mind, accustomed to being always in control, but not now.  
Almost with a will of its own, his right hand released its death  
grip of the sheet and moved to his chest, the flat of his hand  
roving through the soft hair, over his well formed muscles and  
over each nipple, bringing a sharp intake of breath. Lower the  
hand moved, soon joined by its partner caressing his stomach and  
moving ever lower to the waistband of his shorts.  
Slipping his thumbs under the elastic, he pushed down, sliding  
the silky material down the length of his swollen penis. He reached  
down as far as he could, until he could use his legs and feet  
to rid himself of the unwanted garment.  
Trailing his fingertips back up his thighs, he skirted his straining  
erection and again caressed his chest and stomach. Behind his  
closed eyes, his hands became hers. Recalling the dream, he could  
smell her perfume, hear her moans of pleasure, spurring him on  
to greater heights of desire.  
Soon, his right hand moved down and, with his fingertips, lightly  
traced the veins on the underside of his erection, following their  
path from base to tip. Using his palm, he spread the bead of fluid  
over the head then gripped the shaft and squeezed firmly. Unable  
to stifle a groan of desire, he squeezed again, his hips bucking  
in response. Sliding his hand up and over the head, he again spread  
the fluid and used it to lubricate his hand.  
He began to slowly stroke himself, arching his hips in time to  
thrust into his strong hand. His body taut, muscles flexing, he  
opened his mouth, panting with exertion. Faster he stroked, his  
mind replaying images of her wanton passion, imagining her writhing  
in ecstasy as he thrust inside her.  
Feeling his orgasm approaching, he slowed, replacing his fist  
with the thumb and first two fingers, lightening his touch. He  
allowed the climax to recede, regaining control. Now, as he gently  
stroked himself, his other hand expertly pinched his nipples in  
time with his lower hand.  
Bending his knees, he lifted his legs, planting his feet firmly  
on the mattress. He licked his dry lips and again summoned images  
of his dream lover. In his mind's eye he saw her wrap her long  
legs around his hips, encouraging him to thrust deeper, harder.  
Wrapping his fist once more around his engorged penis, he again  
started to stroke himself firmly, his hips bucking in sync with  
his hand.  
Leaving his nipples, his other hand moved down and, in the space  
between the base of his penis and his testicles, formed a fist  
and pushed down hard on the sensitive orbs. The intense pleasure/pain  
this induced drove him to a higher level of need. His desire for  
release was becoming overwhelming, but still he clung to his iron  
control.  
In his mind, she writhed and groaned constantly, calling his name,  
begging him for completion. But he was not yet ready. Still maintaining  
the steady rhythm of his pumping hand, he lifted the fist of his  
other hand and gently grasped his testicles, pulling down, tightening  
the sac. The effect was immediate and pronounced. His body, glistening  
with sweat, arched up from the bed, his legs straightening, a  
loud groan issuing from his throat.  
Gripping his penis tighter, he increased the tempo of his jerking  
hand and felt the oncoming rush of his orgasm. Bow tight with  
tension, he arched again and twisted his body sideways as the  
first spurt of semen left him, hitting his stomach and sliding  
off to his side. The subsequent emissions jetted over his still  
pumping hand onto the bed, accompanied by a choking cry as he  
released his testicles.  
Loosening his grip, his hand slowed, eventually stopping altogether.  
He lay, panting and gently groaning as the aftershocks passed  
through him.  
The last thought before blessed sleep claimed Jean-Luc was  
"Beverly".

 


End file.
